St Mar's and the Order of Orion
by WarriorLoverInc
Summary: MI6 has sent Alex all over the world and into the strangest of schemes, but now they've taken it too far. They want him to go undercover in a school again… a boarding school for girls.


**St. Mar's and the Order of Orion**

**By WarriorLoverInc**

**Chapter 1: Thus With a Kiss I Die**

"_Two households, both alike in dignity,  
In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,  
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,  
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean."_

In the darkness of an average British secondary school auditorium, a retelling of the romance _Romeo and Juliet_ by the great William Shakespeare began. The orator, a young girl clad in a frilly pink Victorian style dress, had a clear voice that cut cleanly through the air in the way a knife does through warm butter.

Two boys marched onto the stage, similarly clad in tunics and high collared frills. They exchanged completely "olde timey" sayings as it goes by Tom, and then left for scene two.

Alex Rider sat in the audience, actually enjoying himself while the classmates next to him busied themselves with falling asleep. Scratching an illegible note on his assignment, he observed in subtle amusement as the "girl" kept speaking. By the end of the play, "her" voice was horse.

The prince of the story, a jocky looking boy who despite his appearance was actually very scholarly, spoke his last lines, _"__For never was a story of more woe, than this of Juliet and her Romeo."_

After a deafening applause, the thirty-something cast of the production squeezed onto the stage in rows and bowed simultaneously. The students in the audience, eager to be home and waste the afternoon, surged out of the auditorium like the tide flooding out and soon it was just Alex and the staff who had nothing better to do.

Striding backstage with the most ridiculous (yet oddly satisfying) smile on his face, Alex came to the men's changing room and knocked twice before letting himself in. Before him stood the orator, who despite their trappings, was no girl.

Tom Harris squeaked shrilly as Alex playfully swiped his head from behind. He was in the process of buttoning his jeans and trying to wipe makeup of his face at the same time. Face turning beetroot red and whirling around, he exclaimed. "Alex! You scared me! Don't you know how to knock?"

Alex sat himself on a bench, enjoying every moment of Tom's embarrassment. "I did knock. You were too busy with your _makeup_ to realize it was me."

Grumbling something that bode ill will to the last Rider under his breath, Tom finished wiping the last of cherry-red lipstick off his face and threw the paper towel in the garbage. "How do girls wear this stuff all the time?"

Shrugging, Alex replied smugly. "How do you wear it all the time?"

Tom, knowing he had walked right into that one, laughed loudly as he finished with his ratty jeans and pulled on a shirt. "Never again do I join the drama club for extra credit."

Alex waved his homework in the air. "At least you're doing extra credit! I'm still catching up on the required coursework!"

Tom walked out the door and after a moment of hesitation, Alex followed. "All that saving the world," Tom nodded solemnly, "being James Bond Jr. isn't all it's cracked up to be."

His statement got him a weird look from a passing beauty of a girl just as Alex mumbled, "I'll say." Then louder to Tom, "Don't talk about that here."

Tom shrugged and sighed in annoyance, he didn't get why his friend was so paranoid. It's not like the students were going to drag him into a basement and lock him up if they heard the words "MI6," "spy," or "saving the world." They'd probably assume they were talking about some video game. Either way, Alex had only returned from a mission a few weeks ago and he deserved any little comfort he got, so Tom relented and changed the subject.

"You wanna' hang at my place tonight?"

Alex glanced at him as he entered the code into his locker. 04-16-27. He actually remembered it after two weeks of practice. "When you say 'your place,' do you mean 'Alex's house' or 'the soccer field?'" Alex and Tom had this conversation often. As the divorce raging in the Harris household became increasingly violent, Tom spent every minute he could somewhere else. He didn't mind, neither did Jack. Tom was a natural jokester and a professional at distracting Alex when he became depressed, all in all a more than pleasant person to be around.

Smiling brightly, Tom replied, "Alex's house. I want to see if Jack has fixed her angel yet."

Alex paused as he was about open his locker door. A dry dusty sort of scent had reached his nostrils, it wafted from within his locker and tiny motes of white could barely be seen floating on the air. Nodding distractedly, Alex said, "Right, you go on Tom, I'll meet you there later."

Tom glanced sidelong at his friend's serious face, but didn't question the matter. "See ya', mate."

"Yeah," Alex muttered. "Hopefully," he added under his breath. When Tom was out of sight, he threw open his locker and jumped back as a tide of white flour erupted outwards, completely covering his new black shoes. Sighing dejectedly, he dug his belongings out of the dusty substance and left the door open. Everyone had deserted the school grounds by now and the custodian (his name was "Joe," as in average) took pity on Alex (he was bullied in his school days too) and told him if this sort of thing ever happened again to just leave his locker open, he'd clean it out.

Shouldering his backpack, Alex took one more customary visual sweep around the school before leaving out its front doors and unlocking his bike.

Halfway home, the euphoria of an exhilarating ride through the streets of Chelsea was shattered as a sleek black car pulled up alongside the bike pedaling Rider. Tinted windows left the car with an ominous air, and it didn't help any that the back window rolled down to reveal a gray man who held a special place in his heart.

Doggedly ignoring the vehicle that passersby saw as a stalking-to-kidnap device, Alex kept his body bent over the handles of his custom bike, pushing his legs to pedal faster. He could lose them! Alex aimed for a lane veering off to the right before an idea struck him. Ahead was a construction zone. Part of the bridge had collapsed over the local river and the restoration crew toiled to complete it before the frigid winter winds blew in.

"Alex…" he heard the gray man warn.

But heed him not Alex did. Building up speed as the sidewalk dropped sharply downhill, Alex prayed to any god listening that he'd make it across. Adrenaline crashed through his system as the reflective orange and white construction barriers were thrown aside by the force of his bike. Men in hard hats and vests threw themselves to the side and cried out in shock as he zoomed by, the black car close on his tail.

After only a few seconds of bumping over the type of gravel you'd expect to find in a construction site, Alex felt the smooth asphalt of the bridge under his tires. Pedaling harder and possibly faster than he ever had in his life, he steered his bike at a stack of flat steel beams placed near the edge of the collapsed section of bridge. A few had been propped on the side, veering steeply into the sky. Thanking his luck, he jumped onto a beam.

Up and up and up… he kept climbing until his wheels left the beams and he was tentatively suspended in the air. Time seemed to have stopped and told the whole world to hold its breath. He closed his eyes and sucked in a lungful of cool air before opening them again, signaling time to begin again. And begin it did, starting by letting the boy it had held in the air fall downwards at an angle that would plunge him into the cold unforgiving river water.

Gripping the handlebars so hard his knuckles turned white, Alex panicked slightly, he wasn't going to make it! In a desperate move, he jumped upwards in his seat and spun the bike in a 360. The attempt at gaining slightly more height worked, and soon the rubber tires of his bike met the blessed asphalt on the other side of the bridge-collapse in a motion that violently jarred him to the core.

Behind himself, the sounds of shouting people and squealing tires could be heard. Alex privately grinned at the trouble he must be causing Blunt, but never stopped moving, never looked back.

Ten minutes later, he was parking his bike in the garage of the house he shared with Jack and walking inside.

"Hello?" he called, "I'm home!"

Tom and Jack popped out from behind a corner. "Alex!" their worried voices exclaimed in unison.

Alex blinked as they dashed over and tried to hug him at the same time. "Whoa! What's up with you two?"

Jack and Tom let go, taking a step back from the clueless boy and sharing a significant look. "Alex…" Jack slowly said, "it's been an hour since Tom got here." _It doesn't take that long to bike here from school,_ the unspoken sentence was, _and when you don't come home from school, you show up a month later covered in injuries. _

Alex glanced down at his watch, internally cursing the little hand's unceasing movement. He didn't want to tell them he'd probably angered one of the most influential people in all of Britain or that he may be shipped off soon to play spy again. "I…" he wracked his brain for an excuse, "there… there was a lot of traffic!"

The two gave him a disbelieving look, but seemed to accept the lie without further question. They walked into the kitchen where a ceramic angel about a foot high sat on the table. Hairline cracks covered the intricately molded surface, and the wings and head were in pieces on the table. Jack picked up a small bottle of Krazy Glue and began to stick some of the pieces back on.

"So how was school?" she asked, eyes never leaving the delicate process of gluing a piece on.

Alex shrugged and grabbed a handful of crisps out of a bag Tom was munching on, much to the other boys chagrin. "Same old, same old." He said indifferently, "I got more homework done, and I got to see Tom dress up as a girl." He grinned mischievously at the last part. "I think some of the clueless boys were eyeing you up, too, Tom."

Poor Tom's face turned a deep red and he started shoving crisps in his mouth, leaving no room for comment. Alex and Jack's laughter was punctuated by the doorbell ringing.

"I'll get it!" Tom snatched the chance to leave his tormentors. He knew they were just poking fun, but it was embarrassing all the more.

Alex hefted his Maths book and daily planner onto the kitchen table as Jack went back to gluing. A very bored sounding and a breathless panicked voice wafted to their ears from the door. Soon they migrated to the hallway and were headed rapidly towards the kitchen.

"No really! He's not home right now—!"

"Mr. Harris, I know for a fact where he is."

"But… you can't—!"

Two people entered the room. Clacking onto the tiled floor with his expensive yet plain shoes was one Alan Blunt. The other was a flustered Tom trying to block his path and failing miserably in the man's dangerous feeling presence. Tom glanced behind himself to see Jack and Alex's expressions of shock and dejectedly dropped his arms.

Indifferently, Blunt pushed past the small boy and stood across the table. "Alex," he said, "that was a stupid stunt."

Alex, who had recovered from his shock, shrugged in a carefree manner, keeping his eyes on his math book. "I thought it was pretty cool, actually."

Jack looked between Blunt and her eraser-nibbling charge. "What's this he's saying about a stunt, Alex?" She may hate Blunt, but that didn't mean she approved of life threatening situations. Or even mildly dangerous stunts. Well, mild in Alex's terms.

Alex looked up, not wanting to lie to his guardian but not wanting to worry her at the same time. Noticing the indecision on the teens face, Blunt replied for him. "The young Rider jumped a washed-out bridge on his bicycle."

Jack rounded on Alex, who had been focusing on his maths. "Alex…" she growled, daring him to deny the statement, hoping he'd deny the statement.

With a sigh, Alex looked up, meeting the stares of Tom, Jack, and Blunt. "Yes, I did jump a bridge." Turning to Blunt, he added, "And what were you doing, Blunt? Stalking me? It sure looked like it."

Blunt just grunted slightly, glancing at his watch. "Rider, we must go. There is a problem—"

"—With my account at the bank, I know the routine." He yawned and closed the maths book, standing to stretch languidly. But instead of heading for the kitchen door Blunt stood at, he waltzed across the tile to the stairs of the upper floor. "C'mon Tom, let's play Monopoly."

Blunt's face darkened when he realized the boy was going to put up the customary fight. "Rider," he warned for the second time today, "don't make me resort to extreme measures."

Alex kept walking, Tom following nervously behind. Jack turned to Blunt. "You mean blackmail."

He waved a dismissive hand, "Call it what you like."

Jack growled like a grizzly, "The authorities are what I'd like to call."

"Mrs. Starbright, I assure you we _are_ the authorities."

Jack crossed her arms with a frown, "And that's what worries me about this country."

Alex was at the first stair and climbing by then. Blunt cleared his throat ominously.

"There is the matter of Mrs. Starbright's visa." An angry exclamation could be heard from the red-head. "The orphanage also has space for one more." Alex kept climbing; Tom shooting him looks from behind. Blunt continued, "I also have been lead to believe your friend Mr. Harris was responsible for an armed robbery at the Royal & General Bank two days ago. There have been witnesses who have confirmed it."

Alex halted as abruptly as Tom stopped breathing. The two boys shared a trapped look, then retreated down the stairs. A smug smile played onto the usually stoic face of Blunt as Alex came into view, and the teen spy sorely wished he could knock it very violently off his face. The vision of Alex using a flustered Blunt as a punching bag brought a momentary smile to the boy's face, before he saw a red-faced Jack gifting the man with a glare that would melt steel.

Blunt ignored her and nodded to Alex. "Off we are then."

Tom leaned over to his friend, "I didn't really rob a bank."

Alex nodded, unsmiling at his friend's attempts at humor. The knowledge that this would have happened no matter what he did was disheartening. Frowning, Tom gave him a quick hug before Jack pulled him into a tight embrace. "Be safe, Alex."

"Sure," he laughed wryly. His missions were never safe.

Blunt stood aside at the front door as if to say "after you." Alex didn't even look at him as he passed over the threshold.

…

Royal & General Bank was the façade for the cloak and dagger secret services of Britain, MI6. On this dreary fall day, it stood proudly on a corner of Liverpool Street, a wealthy bank to passersby, an ugly blight to a certain fifteen year old. Now, Alex sat in an overly plush chair in front of the Head of MI6, facing the window and staring out at the oblivious bystanders going about their daily business. He felt as though he were inside a television, no matter what he did, the viewers would just chalk it up as acting and sit contentedly to watch.

The crinkle of plastic heralded the arrival of Mrs. Jones. She popped a green peppermint into her mouth as she walked into Blunt's office and took a seat beside her superior. Alex felt her shooting pitying looks at his back. Blunt just continued with his paperwork.

Alex supposed he should be feeling angry, or perhaps hopeless. What he didn't expect was to feel to numb, like he'd just spent an hour in a freezing lake. He caught a glimpse of his face in the reflection of the window glass, and inwardly cringed. "Mission mode" as Tom called it seemed to have activated earlier than usual. Cold, unfeeling brown eyes examined his face detachedly, the shadows and ridges of his features seemed more pronounced and his jaw was clenched. Reflexes could be a good thing, especially with the life he lived. But he definitely didn't like this one.

Someone cleared their throat. Alex didn't move.

Blunt frowned at the stubborn boy but chose not to try to attract his attention again. Rider would be listening; it was beneficial that he did.

"Rider, we have a job for you." He watched the boy's reflection in the window and saw something akin to "no duh, Sherlock" cross his countenance. "I'm sure you remember Fiona Friend."

Alex snorted; it was hard to forget the girl that had allowed her friends to use you as a shooting target and almost got you run over by a train. Contrary to her last name, she was no one anyone would want to hang around with. He'd had to spend a few weeks with her family to become a "disgusting city-boy" as she had put it and then was carted off to Point Blanc where he had almost been hit by a train… _again._ Even if it missed, he still ended up in the hospital.

Blunt continued, "Her parents sent her to an international boarding school in Iceland six months ago. She did well, until three weeks ago." He slid a manila folder across his desk. Across the cover in bold font it read the standard "Top Secret." "She was attending St. Margret's International School for Girls and was in almost constant communication with her parents until 21 days ago. In that time they have not received any letters, text messages, phone calls, or any other sort of contact. Their calls to the school went unanswered and they've had a threatening letter delivered to their residence two days ago."

Opening the folder, Alex spotted the letter. It was a folded piece of parchment, which meant either the senders were eccentric or out of loose leaf. He felt it was probably the first. Written on the parchment was a message in cursive so fancy it was almost illegible.

_Dear Friend Family,_

_You were probably hoping this was a letter from your daughter, if you continue to search for her, our next letter will be written in her blood. Do not attempt to find her, do not contact the authorities or we will kill her. We assure you that this is no idle threat._

_~TOO_

Alex glanced up. "'Too?'" he asked, confused. It sounded like a stereotypical ransom note, without the ransom.

Blunt gestured to the folder. "We believe it stands for 'The Order of Orion.'" Alex saw a report on the Order within the file. "The Friend's sent us all her letters and such two days ago with their plea for help. Fiona mentioned an Order at the school; we believe that they may be holding her captive."

"Why?" Alex asked again. As usual, none of it made sense.

"She may have stuck her nose where it doesn't belong, we don't know. Either way, we are sending you in undercover."

Alex's face retained its confused look. "But it's a school for girls…" Then his eyes widened with understanding. "No…!" He was horrified by the thought, _they wouldn't!_

Mrs. Jones, who up until then had been passively sucking her peppermint and watching the "conversation," took over. "You will be attending the school undercover. Your new name is Alexandria Corvek."

It seemed as though Lady Luck had kissed Alex Rider goodbye.

**. . . .**

**Authors Note: **I should be working on either my HP/DP or my other AR, shouldn't I? But I just couldn't resist the idea! Think of the horror on poor Alex's face!

And what is it with my obsession with constellations?


End file.
